Manchester to Munich
Three years after I swore to myself that I would never do a long distance bicycle trip again, I found myself itching to do exactly that. I was restless and discontent and wanted to do something memorable. I wanted an adventure and to live – and so it was that my thoughts turned back to the bike and so the process of mapping out a route began…
I knew that I wanted to head east – across the famed silk road and all those mythical cities that the name evokes, but I just couldn’t settle on a route to Turkey: my exit point from Europe. Travelling Central Asia requires the traversing of some pretty inhospitable places: places which can only be tackled at certain times of the year and so it was essential, I got my timing right.
I also had a wish to see some of southern Europe too but if I did take this route, I’d arrive in Central Asia in the middle of winter which wasn’t exactly ideal. I thus decided on a plan to cycle to Spain and on through Italy before perhaps spending the winter months working and replenishing my funds. Yes, I thought it was a grand old plan.
I crossed England and arrived at Harwich where I caught a ferry over to the Netherlands and cycled onto Amsterdam where I stayed for two weeks seeing old friends. From Amsterdam, I travelled south through the Netherlands and Belgium and on towards Paris where I was confronted with my first real challenge of the trip.
From Paris, I travelled across France towards Nantes and along the Atlantic coast passing through La Rochelle, Rochefort, Bordeaux, Biarritz and Bayonne before finally arriving in Santander on the northern coast of Spain.
In Nantes I stayed with a couch surfing host and in north of Bordeaux, I stayed with a friend I had met whilst working in Amsterdam a couple of years earlier. Other that, I camped every night and I was honestly surprised at just how easy and safe it seemed to be. As early evening approached, I would ensure that my water was sufficiently replenished – usually by stopping off at a cemetery as these always seemed to have a water tap available. I would then begin scanning for possible camping spots as I rode on. It’s not really something you notice when you aren’t actively on the lookout for them but spots to camp are in abundance everywhere – you just have to look.
Once I had found a suitable spot, I’d pull over close by and make dinner. After an hour or so, I’d pack up an, having checked there was no traffic coming from either direction, dart off the road and then set up camp. Doing this, I was saving at least EUR 350 per week! Travel dow not have to be expensive you see!
As I cycled south along the French coast towards Spain, the weather took on a distinctly warmer feel. The towns south of Bordeaux began to feel a little different too: homes always seemed to have colourful little shutters on hung on every window, the streets seemed more lively and there was a more festive cheer in the air. Biarritz was a notable example of this.
On arriving in Spain, I had what I can only say was one of the strangest experiences of my life. You can read more about this below:
Before I left England, I hadn’t really given much consideration to the landscape of Spain, simply assuming it would be relentlessly hot, arid and quite unforgiving. Indeed, it was partly due to these reasons that I wanted to visit Spain in the first place: I thought it might offer up some preparedness before any possible arrival into Azerbaijan and Central Asia.
You can imagine my surprise then when I found myself relentlessly climbing up hill after hill along the coast after leaving San Sebastián. As I headed inland, whole swathes of the landscape bore little resemblance to the Spain of my imagination. The whole place had a distinctly tropical feel almost and it was rugged to say the least. Every few hours brought a fresh downpour, quickly following by blazing sun. It was all very eye opening.
After a few day’s, I turned south and exited the rugged valley’s of the north and the view took my breath away; the deeply cut, forested valleys now gave way to spectacular sun drenched plains as far as the eye could see. When I envisioned Spain before I arrived, this was indeed the image I had in mind.
From Vitoria- Gasteiz, I cycled in a south-westerly direction passing trough the cities of Burgos and Valladolid and many beautiful medieval villages. Life seemed to slow down here. The air was hot and dry and the only sounds you could hear were the constant echoes of crickets in the fields either side of the road. The ever relenting sun sapped my energy and I could finally see why the people and the villages came to life in the late afternoon.
I crossed the border into Portugal and continued through the slightly mountainous central area that borders Parque Natural da Serra da Estrela and from here, slowly made my way south towards to beautiful town of Evora.
